


This is Right Where it Begins

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Crushing, Fluff, Human AU, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Swearing, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton sleeps over; and Sans suddenly realises just how pretty Mettaton really is in the mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Right Where it Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Basically a shit ton of description about Mettaton and my People Aesthetics  
> also wtf is this pining?  
> UPDATE --- okay basically I noticed that this wasn't available for anonymous views which is from when I was less confident with my writing,,, so I've made it possible for logged out peoples to see this garbage ^~^

Mettaon is still asleep when Sans and Papyrus get up to have breakfast. Papyrus tries to gently shake Mettaton awake, and when that doesn't work, Sans steals Mettaton's only blanket. There's a lot of complaining and shuffling and then Mettaton is sat up, eye lids low and jet black hair messy.

Mettaton isn't wearing very much; a pink shirt and underwear. Sans doesn't really want to stare at Mettaton's slumber clothes - let alone the curve in his chest that is usually hidden by his binder that Papyrus managed to stop him wearing to bed and the bare pale shoulders and collarbone he can see above the shirt - _Don't stare at him like that, Sans, he'll think you're looking at his other eye._

For the first time, Sans can see his right eye - or at least, what's left of it. There's a gash, red and angry looking that streaks up his face that is usually covered by hair. Mettaton doesn't seem bothered by him or Papyrus seeing it - he supposes it's because they were going to see it eventually and everyone knew about what had happened anyway.

He stands up and stretches like a cat as the two brothers sit at the kitchen table, arms high above his head. His shirt lifts and Sans notices a small peek of skin. He tries to hide his red face. _Stop looking at him now,_ his mind warns him.

'Are you okay, brother?' Papyrus asks, sounding concerned. In response, Sans lifts a hand to his face and leans on it.

'Yes,' He replies shortly.

There's a box of cereal on the counter top - he barely has a second to look at it before he reaches for it and tips it into his bowl, along with some milk in a desperation to distract himself from staring anymore. _Mettaton probably thinks you're a creep now._

Sans didn't even eat cereal on Saturday. Now Papyrus was staring at him confusedly from across the table. Why was he so bothered by what Mettaton thought of him?

Mettaton pours water from the kettle into a pink cup (where did he get the pink mug - they had no pink mugs?), making coffee - filling it halfway with cream and dowsing it in sugar. He then sat down on the stool next to Sans.

Up close, Sans could see   Mettaton's dark shadows streaked under his eyes, face bare of any makeup. Freckles dotted his entire face and Sans even gained a glimpse of some at the back of his neck - paired with a large, purple-green bruise that he quickly averted his eyes from.

'Good morning, Mettaton.' Papyrus says, a kind grin painting his face. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Yes, dear, I did.' Mettaton answers in a worn voice, so low it sounds like he's growling.

'-and you, Sans?'

'Yup.' Sans speaks too quickly. _They're going to notice something's up eventually, Sans._

Mettaton is gazing at him with grey-brown eyes, for some reason, which Sans only just notices out of the corner of his vision. He resists turning his head to meet Mettaton's eyes because he knows that he's still blushing a little.

Mettaton takes a sip of his coffee after a good thirty seconds of silence. Papyrus is still oblivious to the tension and Sans would prefer if it stayed that way. His eyes finally slip over to where Mettaton is beside him. He's got a moustache of cream and coffee, which he licks his lips to reach. For some reason, Mettaton's eyes don't leave Sans in that moment.

_The fuck is he doing?_

Mettaton winks (oh fuck oh fuck _oh fuck **oh fuck**_ ) and goes back to drinking his coffee. Then he stands up, not noticing when the stool drags on the floor with a horrible grating noise.

'What're we doing today, darlings?' He declares, putting both hands on the table and letting some weight be put onto them. His arms are really nice; with the same freckles and he can see the green and blue of veins buried in his skin. It contrasts really nicely. Makes Sans want to draw again - or at least take a photo of him.

Of course, no matter what he's wearing and doing, Mettaton is famed for looking awesome all the time. But there's something so natural about him all of a sudden, the way his chest lifts when he breathes and how he can comb his entire hand through his thick (but a little bit greasy) black hair in attempt to quiet the rebellious curls and weird angles. He doesn't smell of fifty different perfume bottles and hairspray and that cocunut shampoo he always uses, but like a normal person who's just woken up in the morning. There's a little bit of those still lingering on him, of course, and Sans is close enough to sense every little detail.

His limbs are stiff (Sans knows that on a good day Mettaton can stretch his leg past his head - Sans doesn't find that hot _at all_ ) and his eyes are still half closed from sleepiness. He's obviously tired (Sans wonders if Mettaton really slept last night) but yet so, so, so lively and vibrant. When Papyrus is like this in the mornings, Sans feels like he's getting a migraine, but with the way that Mettaton's happiness (unlike a torch in the middle of darkness shining in your eyes, a gradual sunrise through sunglasses and smoke) leaches gradually into his mind, he's not too bothered.

His breath is coffee and sugar and Sans can only imagine how that would taste with his own. How would they kiss? Would it be a quick thing or something longer, would there be a meaning behind it or would they do it because they _could_ -

_Stop thinking about that now._

'We could go shopping - get snacks and all sorts.' Papyrus suggests.

Mettaton's eyes brighten '-We could cook something?'

Papyrus gasped loudly, dramatically. 'Yes!' Then he turns to Sans, hands clenched together in begging, 'please, brother, _please_?'

'As if I'd let you two cook on your own.' He smirks, 'What would we be cooking?'

As if he doesn't know the answer already.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah if there's any mistakes in spelling please tell me! I had a bunch and I'm not sure if I got them all.


End file.
